


Battles of the Brothers

by Dragonsquill (dragonsquill)



Series: Battles and Brothers [1]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Freeform, Gen, M/M, Nori/Bofur Just Happened What the Heck?, Ridiculousness, So Many Brothers, Thorin Should Have Known Better, brothers being brothers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-24
Updated: 2014-04-13
Packaged: 2018-01-16 19:36:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 15,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1359343
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonsquill/pseuds/Dragonsquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Company of Thorin Oakenshield was made up of brothers.</p><p>Entirely too many brothers.</p><p>Brothers everywhere: being underfoot, being overprotective, telling embarrassing stories around the campfire, arguing over portions, tucking in at night, stealing blankets, double-checking packs, squabbling over watch duties, helping each other on ponies, shoving each other off ponies, sharing dried meats, nicking dried meats.  Family dynamics and lifetimes of deep, abiding affection (and annoyance, oh, so much annoyance, and knowing <i>every single button</i>) combined into a sure recipe for disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. An Overview of the Battlefield

**Author's Note:**

> [Blanket Permission Statement](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/permission)

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield was made up of brothers.

Entirely too many brothers.

Brothers everywhere: being underfoot, being overprotective, telling embarrassing stories around the campfire, arguing over portions, tucking in at night, stealing blankets, double-checking packs, squabbling over watch duties, helping each other on ponies, shoving each other off ponies, sharing dried meats, nicking dried meats. Family dynamics and lifetimes of deep, abiding affection (and annoyance, oh, so much annoyance, and knowing _every single button_ ) combined into a sure recipe for disaster.

The ingredients for said recipe were divided thusly:

**The Elders:** Balin, Dori, Bombur, Oin, Fili

**The Youngers:** Dwalin, Ori, Bofur, Gloin, Kili

**The “Neutral” Party:** Nori, of questionable repute, the middle brother Ri

**The Semiofficial Referee:** Bifur, Axe-Addled, the older cousin Ur

**The Pointedly Ignorant:** Thorin Oakenshield, ~~His Royal Grumpiness~~ King Under the Mountain

**The Unimpressed Spectator:** Mister Bilbo Baggins, Burglar, of the Shire

The Youngers and Elders were easy enough to identify. Even Fili, with a good eighty years less life experience than his closest fellow Elders, was welcomed with metaphorically open arms after the Youngers initiated the first volley (really, they definitely started it) and he showed himself loyal to the order of Big Brothers. Likewise, the great divide in age between Gloin and Dwalin, Kili and Ori, did not prove an impediment for the Youngers. Bonds of shared big or little brotherhood could not be sullied by mere differences in _age._

The other four members of the Company were left to find their own place in the Battles of the Brothers. 

Initially, Bofur had assumed he could bring Bifur to the side of the Youngers. After all, Bofur had always been Bifur’s favorite (singing, funny Bofur with his excellent carving skills). Bombur, however, had exactly the same idea on _his_ side, as he had clearly always been Bifur’s favorite (loving, gentle Bombur with his excellent roasting skills). After some jockeying between the two, it was generally decided that Bifur was best suited to a sort of overseer’s role, gently (sometimes violently) ensuring that nothing got too out of hand. This was a good call, since without Bifur this role might have fallen on the leader of their Company and frankly, everyone preferred to believe Thorin didn’t know what was going on.

“What if he _does_ take an interest?” Bofur whispered feverishly to his fellow Youngers one night when they were feeling a bit set-upon by a joint effort of Fili, Oin, and a foul-smelling medicinal salve that ended up on their grooming accessories. “He’ll join _them_ , won’t he?” He said “them” the way most dwarves would say _“elven elk excrement_ ” and motioned violently at the gathered Elders, who were pretending to innocently eat stew.

It was clearly a façade.

“Aye,” Dwalin agreed. “And he’d be a poor enemy to have.”

“Why?” Gloin demanded, obviously confused. “He has no sense of humor to speak of.”

“Isn’t that the _problem_?” Ori this time. “He’d probably rip our arms off.” 

Kili scoffed. “Uncle wouldn’t hurt us.” He offered a feral grin. “We’d be no use to the quest that way.” 

Dwalin cuffed the young prince on the back of the head. “I’m telling you he’d be a horrible addition to the enemy’s camp. YOU lot don’t remember Erebor-”

“ _I_ do,” Gloin insisted, though he’d been barely ten at the time.

“-but I do. He may be the King of Grumpiness now, but take my word for it. Thorin dealt with Frerin every day for over fifty years, and he _still_ has Dis to contend with, who’s twice as dangerous. He’s no lightweight when it comes to siblings.” Dwalin cut his hands through the air in an _absolutely not_ gesture. “Take my word for it; we do not want Thorin involved in any way.” 

And so, Bifur took on his role as general referee, and everyone pretended their king didn’t have a clue what was happening right under his rather delicate nose. 

Nori’s placement was more complicated. He was both a younger and an elder brother, with life experiences that caused him to have sympathies for both sides. He also had a wicked sense of humor and an inborn tendency toward smug superiority, so he decided to stay out of it, getting his laughs at the expense of each camp. He also took bets occasionally, and always came out on top because he had an unbiased view of the proceedings. He didn’t want to chance losing an amusing source of income by becoming involved in childish behavior.

Everyone had assumed that their Master Baggins, bless his beardless Hobbit heart, would be completely out of his element and flustered by the shenanigans of the Dwarves. They did not, however, account for the fact that Bilbo was half Took (in fact they had no idea what this meant until Bofur asked him) and, though an only child, had a large number of boisterous Took cousins who could “put you lot to shame.” 

Well. That was just a challenge, wasn’t it?


	2. You Know, of Course, This Means War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a note on the lovely Ur family.
> 
> Tolkien didn't give birth dates for the Ri or Ur families, so their birth order wasn't established in the books. I've seen fanon switch Bofur and Bombur's ages back and forth. 
> 
> I wanted Bofur on Team Younger for...reasons. So he is. 0_~

So, the Youngers started it.

This was probably because Kili and Ori were already friends before the quest began, and Kili had known Dwalin his entire life, while the Elders were little more than acquaintances. Kili also got bored easily, and wasn’t very good at planning things out. Truthfully, the first attack was originally only meant for Fili, but poor aim had resulted in the involvement of Dori and Oin, which pulled in Ori and Gloin, which dragged in-well.

It started very simply.

They were bathing. The river was brisk but pleasant (to the dwarves, anyway; it was a bit too brisk for their Mr. Baggins, who was eventually helped onto a rock by a smiling Bofur), and everyone was enjoying a few minutes in the late evening. They had been on the road over two weeks – two monotonous weeks, which should be a good thing, and _would_ be a good thing for, say, elves. Or Hobbits. But for Dwarves, it was a boring thing. And bored Dwarves are restless Dwarves.

Unsurprisingly, Kili fired the first shot.

He claimed later that he was _obviously_ aiming for Fili, who had it coming just for being himself. He gathered a nice, thick glob of wet river sand, mixed in some convenient algae and grasses to maintain the basic form, and lobbed it with what should have been unerring accuracy at his elder brother.

Only then, whether by instinct or providence, Fili ducked underwater to rinse out his hair. 

The glob of muck sailed peacefully over the splash of Fili hitting the water and slammed, point blank, into Dori’s shoulder and neck. Dori, shocked by the sudden attack, stumbled backwards into Oin, and they went down in a flair of white hair and curses.

Kili stared, half horrified. Ori burst out in giggles at the look on his elegant brother’s face. Fili popped back up and said, “What?”

“You brat!” Dori roared, running a hand through the mess covering his right shoulder.

Ori fell over, laughing. Dori glared at him. “Don’t drown!” he snapped, overprotectively. Ori scowled and knelt surreptitiously to dig his fingers in the mud.

“I was aiming at Fili!” Kili cried defensively.

Fili smirked. 

Oin rose from the water like an avenging orc, hands full of silt and weeds, and clocked Kili right in the face with an impressive muckball of his own. “If yer gonna start something, lad, learn to throw!”

From there, it all sort of fell apart. 

While it might have been assumed that the brothers would group themselves according to family, it didn’t work out that way. The obvious first attack was meant as a younger-on-elder assault, and Ori’s giggle fit when he should have rushed to his big brother’s defense didn’t help matters (nor did the fact that it was shortly followed by a mud attack containing an inadvertent rock right into Dori’s lovely beard). Bofur didn’t care who he hit, but when he smacked gentle Bombur, Dori surprised everyone by leaping to his defense and throwing their would-be-bard about ten yards downriver. Ori scathingly referred to this as “Mama Dori Mode.”

By supper, the lines were clearly drawn.

The first Battle of the Brothers was a draw.

Both sides were determined that next time, there would be a decisive victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _I would just like to remind everyone that this entire scene took place in the late afternoon, with lovely, dappled sunlight, and every single character is nude._  
>     
>  _You’re welcome._
> 
> (◡‿◡✿)


	3. Notes From Interested Parties, Pt I

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ori would be so proud if he knew his rascally big brother was keeping such careful notes.

**_Selected Excerpts from Nori’s Notes:_ **

**The Elders:**  
 _Balin_  
Strengths: extremely intelligent, sneakier than he looks, has a sweet old face that makes the Youngers think he will take mercy on them (he won’t), extensive knowledge of Dwalin, Ori, and Fili, most experience with exasperating younger brother  
Weaknesses: he’s old , slows him down, sometimes has flash of inconvenient conscience esp. concerning Ori and Kili (the brats), occasionally wants to be a grown up (fails), still old

 _Oin_  
Strengths: knowledge of medicine and herbs, no shame whatsoever, knows how to make sleep potions, controls access to medical supplies  
Weaknesses: just about deaf and very difficult to involve in conspiracies without alerting the whole camp due to booming bear voice when he’s trying to get something clarified. Would suggest they use sign language if involved (idiots), need for frequent naps

 _Dori_  
Strengths: strength, seriously, has always been ridiculously strong for someone who works in textiles, surprisingly crafty, is used to putting up with me and so has some immunity to being pestered, can crush others with incredible mothering instincts (remember when people called him Ori's Mum? And he didn't bother to correct them?), can melt balls with his Disappointed Eyes  
Weaknesses: fussy, can be easily distracted if Ori appears in danger, flustered by bad weather

 _Bombur_  
Strengths: surprisingly athletic, can ricochet projectiles off belly, controls access to food supply, is so sweet to everyone that the Youngers feel terrible if they upset him (potent power not being used to full effect, would expect better of Balin and Fili to take advantage), rarely speaks  
Weaknesses: naturally gentle personality, easily distracted by food, rarely speaks

 _Fili_  
Strengths: young, fast, well trained in tactics, more clever than he seems, tireless amount of energy, excellent ability to annoy and distract Kili, stupidity of youth  
Weaknesses: entirely too fond of Kili, doesn’t want to disappoint Balin/Thorin, unpredictable temper, stupidity of youth

 _Overview_  
Most Dangerous Elder: Balin (Fili?)  
Least Dangerous Elder: Bombur  
Greatest Asset(s): control of medicine, control of dinner, overall experience  
Area(s) of Most Needed Improvement: Fili can’t do all the heavy lifting you old slugs, need to appreciate the power of Bombur’s Sweetness, Balin needs to officially get over himself

**The Youngers**

_Dwalin_  
Strengths: wily, strong, well-trained, doesn’t appear to feel pain, most experience dealing with elder brother, no shame, secretly amuses Thorin (some degree of immunity)  
Weaknesses: not the sharpest tool in the box (somewhat offset by experience w/ Balin), complete lack of imagination delegates him to lackey role, very heavy on his feet  
Note: What is he doing hovering over Ori all the time? Suspicious.

 _Gloin_  
Strengths: very determined, surprisingly imaginative, clever with numbers, likes to hit things, largest supply of pipeweed in the party, controls access to party funds, incredible snoring ability, recent experience with overactive dwarfling has increased stamina  
Weaknesses: gets bored easily, distracted by numbers, clomps around like an Oliphant, is honestly too mature for this shit

 _Ori_  
Strengths: is adorable, can appear helpless, is secretly a conniving little pain in the ass, Dori has trouble teasing him, keeps excellent records, can organize intricate plots, Dwalin has become protective of him, good artist? (could come in handy?), uses distance weapon  
Weaknesses: is adorable, is actually a little helpless, will fold if Dori looks sad (wimp), tendency to over-plan intricate plots when something simple will do, easily distracted by sketch requests

 _Bofur_  
Strengths: endless good humor, mischievous, fair plotter, up for anything, excellent musician and singing voice (useful distraction?), everyone likes him despite themselves  
Weaknesses: is actually a Nice Person, over-cautious about the feelings of others, will forget to lay trap if someone starts a drinking song

 _Kili_  
Strengths: fast, extremely clever fingers (could train him to be an excellent pickpocket), surprisingly quiet on his feet, singing voice could be used as a form of torture, can distract Fili by acting hurt/curious/adorable, uses distance weapon, large eyes  
Weaknesses: easily distracted by shiny objects, not particularly strong, afraid to disappoint Dwalin/Thorin, gets sidetracked when Fili grins at him (do they honestly think they’re subtle?)

 _Overview_  
Most Dangerous Younger: Ori  
Least Dangerous Younger: Gloin  
Greatest Asset(s): control of funds, youth, athleticism  
Area(s) of Most Needed Improvement: patience, recognizing how dangerous Ori is as a weapon against Dori and Balin, Kili needs to learn to focus already


	4. Notes From Interested Parties, Pt 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herein you shall find a carefully translated copy of Bifur's Official Rules of Battle.
> 
> Bofur's Translation Note: Due to...unusual use of grammar and syntax in the original text, some light liberties were taken to make the translation more accessible to a general audience. The numbering scheme is left unaltered.

**Bifur’s General Rules for Brotherly Battle Behaviour (Common Tongue Translation)**

No Dwarf Shall-  
1\. Mess with the food.  
2\. Because we all eat it  
3\. You stone-brained-dwarflings  
4\. Cause injury which could slow down the quest  
5\. Because it’s going to take long enough anyway  
6\. Taking the long way around like we are  
7\. Engage in loud noises that will spook the horses  
8\. Or me  
9\. Cut off any other dwarves’ access to air  
10\. Because if they die  
11\. I’ll prob. have to dig the hole  
12\. “Bifur’s strong! He can dig the hole!”  
13\. No.  
14\. Involve Thorin  
15\. Cut hair or beards  
16\. Obviously, you SONS OF ELVES  
17\. This includes putting sticky substances in hair or beards that would have to be cut out  
18\. Hair on other body parts is okay, cut at will  
19\. Even the small hairs, but be careful with sharp objects in that area  
20\. Bother the ~~Halfling Hobbit~~ Bilbo  
21\. Especially when we’re ~~talking~~ communicating about insects  
22\. He knows a lot about butterflies  
23\. I like butterflies  
24\. They like to sit on me  
25\. And Hobbits, apparently  
26\. Frighten game  
27\. Mess up Kili’s shots  
28\. He’s the only one of us who can get birds  
29\. And I’m sick of rabbits  
30\. Bring anyone to tears  
31\. Especially Bombur  
32\. In general, it’s best not to upset Bombur  
33\. A happy cook is a good cook  
34\. Do not throw heavy projectiles  
35\. Or light projectiles with sharp edges  
36\. Just consider projectiles, weight and diameter, likelihood of injury  
37\. Oin has enough to do  
38\. Especially if someone slips while trimming short hairs  
39\. Use snoring as a punishment for the opposite side  
40\. Because that’s punishing me too  
41\. And I don’t deserve that  
42\. I have a damn axe in my head  
43\. Start or use fire  
44\. Because we’re IN THE WOODS  
45\. Additional rules will be added as the situation demands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In Chapter Five: Counterattack. The Elders send in Balin.


	5. Return Stroke to the Eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herein the Elders make their counterattack. 
> 
> Delicately.
> 
> As befits their delicate old bones.

The Elders’ counterattack was, in accordance with their years and dignity, a much more elegant affair than Kili’s mudball-to-the-eye.

They sent forth Balin.

“Fine evening, Thorin,” the advisor said as he joined Thorin beside the camp fire two nights after the Minor River Skirmish. He was wearing his most amicable expression, double-checked and approved by Dori and a betrayed Fili (“You . . . you do that on _purpose_?! That's...my...entire _dwarflinghood_ , Balin!").

The king grunted then, realizing to whom he was speaking, squinted moodily up at the sky. “It’s not raining.”

Balin laughed gently. “A nice change,” he agreed. He took a few minutes to light his pipe, offering some weed to Thorin, and giving the king time to light his own. They chatted about this and that, nothing of any great import – it was always a bit amusing to watch Thorin try to make small talk. He was so fantastically bad at it. He always had been, since they were dwarflings. 

“If you don’t mind my saying,” Balin said sympathetically, “you do seem tired.”

“We’re all tired, Balin.” A bit short, and was Thorin glancing across at their burglar? It made sense. Bilbo was much less hardy than the rest of the Company. But he was bearing up well. At the moment, he looked remarkably relaxed, leaning nearly cheek to cheek with Bofur over the toymaker's latest whittling project.

“Aye, but you more than most.” Balin tapped off some ash. “It wouldn’t hurt for you to delegate some tasks.”

Thorin was eyeing him now, a bit more warily than he’d like. Probably thought Balin was going to say something about _maps_ and _directions_ but really. Balin was above that. He left that sort of too-easy-teasing to his brother. “Such as?”

Balin put on a Thoughtful Face. You didn’t become advisor to an irascible and wandering king without knowing exactly what your expression was saying at any moment. “Well…watch schedules, for example. You were talking about coming up with a more solid schedule, to make sure everyone is getting enough rest. I could assist with that.” He didn’t look at Thorin, instead gazing benevolently over the Company. “You know I’m good at timetables and such. I wouldn’t mind taking on the task.”

Thorin sat quietly a moment, thinking that over. Balin wasn’t sure what the response would be – Thorin was predictable in some ways and utterly unpredictable in others. Then the king’s mouth curved into a small, rare smile and he thumped Balin on the back. “Appreciated,” he said shortly, “and accepted, since it’s not too much trouble.”

It was, in fact, no trouble at all. Balin had made the schedule already, with input from his fellow elders. Oin had been especially helpful, even though it meant sneaking out of earshot of the rest of the camp for half an hour to discuss it.

It was generally agreed that the best watch was the first one. You had to sit awake while everyone else got to nestle in their warm blankets, but once your time was up, you could curl up and sleep, uninterrupted, until morning. After this came third watch, where you had a decent amount of sleep until you had to get up ridiculously early. Another plus of third watch was having input into what would show up in the pot for breakfast come morning.

Second watch was everyone’s least favorite. No happily sleeping dwarf wanted to be nudged awake, set on his feet, and then shoved back in bed later, too wide awake to rest. Second watch didn’t get to scrape the stew bowl of supper or help Bombur make breakfast. It was just staring into the dark for several hours while your eyes itched to go back to bed.

At first glance, there was nothing _unfair_ about Balin’s new schedule. No Youngers had more watches than Elders – indeed, the most watches were given to Balin, a natural early riser, and Fili, a sharp-sighted late owl. Nori was given the least (this was not because he was a neutral party, but because no one felt entirely comfortable with Nori watching over them – and their belongings – in their sleep), along with Bombur (he woke early to make breakfast and so was excused from watches), Thorin (it didn’t actually occur to anyone that Thorin _could_ be assigned watches), and Bilbo (who insisted on taking some, but the Dwarves had figured out that Hobbits needed both more food and more sleep than your average Dwarf). No one was left on watch alone. Nor, indeed, did Balin only pair Youngers with Youngers and Elders with Elders or ensure both parties were always mixed to prevent plotting.

No.

It was much more insidious than that.

Youngers found themselves the recipient of just . . . just a _few_ more middle watches. Not enough to properly complain about, especially since it could be blamed on the fact that they had youth on their sides.

Some of the more . . . irascible members of the party, who usually took watch together, found themselves paired now with Bofur and Kili. Traditionally, Fili, Bifur, and Ori were their most likely partners, as they could sit quietly and let the nonstop humming or chatter flow over them.

Gloin and Dwalin were . . . not so good at it. (Oin would tsk and ask if they wanted some salve for those tight shoulders the next morning.)

Oin was paired with Youngers whose sharp ears could make up for his rather less sharp ones. Oin had an amazing ability to sleep with his eyes open, leaving his partner to entertain himself while staying hyper vigilant. 

When certain Youngers did have a more preferred time slot, Gloin and Bombur were always fast asleep.

And snoring.

When the watch ended and the watchers could try and sleep.

And often, when the Youngers found themselves with a prime first watch, there would be absolutely no leftovers from dinner to help keep them awake until the watch ended. Not so much as a crumb.

The gauntlet had been thrown.

**Nori’s Notes: Appendum**  
 _The old dwarf’s more wily than I gave him credit for._  
 _Overall solid strategy._  
 _General energy level among Youngers decreasing - making up for their youthful stamina._  
 _However, separating the Besotted Princes will not go well for anyone._  
 _Poor move, Mister Balin._  
 _Poor move._  



	6. I'll Have What He's Having

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herein there are problems for both sides. Nori is neutral, but...
> 
> Also, it's time to earn that TEEN RATING. WOOHOO

**Excerpt from Nori’s Notes:**  
 _Besotted princes haven’t shared guard duty in week._  
 _Others can’t honestly be unaware they use duty to make out. “Watchfully.”_  
 _Cannot end well._  
 _Looking forward to the show._  


There followed a flurry of minor assaults, designed to chip away at the opposite team’s resolve.

The Youngers, increasingly tired and tetchy, collected a bowl full of sand which was duly sprinkled in every elder’s bedroll during dinner one night. This was made easier by the brief return of Gandalf, who had a spectacular glare-contest with Thorin by the fire. Originally, fleet-footed Kili was supposed to deliver the goods, but he couldn’t drag his eyes away from his majestic uncle and the loony old wizard ripping each other to shreds in polite language, so the mission fell upon Bofur. They’d considered Gloin, but no dwarf in the Company was heavier on his feet than their banker. 

The Youngers weren’t the only ones drained and irritated the next morning.

Especially since sand likes to wiggle into underwear and make itself at home.

The Elders spent that day walking around in a sort of wide-legged shuffle, shooting death glares at their younger counterparts. Bombur’s rolling walk made him especially vulnerable to this underhanded assault, and his look of innocent betrayal _did_ make Bofur feel a _bit_ bad. He leant Bombur an extra lunch ration that day.

“That went rather well,” Gloin said approvingly as Balin attempted to waddle in an appropriately sedate and mature manner to his pony. 

Dwalin was grinning in a thoroughly disturbing way, watching the same thing. “Aye. Not bad at all. Short old goat’s had that coming for _days_.” 

(There had been some insinuation, on Balin’s part, that Kili and Fili had contributed more to the overall food stores of the party than Dwalin. The availability of clear statistical data on this did not lessen Dwalin’s sense of betrayal.)

Bofur buffed his nails. “It’s an oldy,” he said, “but a goody.”

“I think we should press forward before they get a chance to return,” Ori offered. “What do you think, Kili? ….Kili?”

He turned to the young prince, only to find him staring across the camp, his eyes a bit glazed and lips slightly parted. 

“What are you…?” He followed Kili’s line of sight, then heaved a sigh and raised his mittened hands to his eyes. “Mahal’s _beard_ , Kili, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before!”

Fili was standing beside his pony, completely naked, shaking out his underthings with sharp flicks of his wrists. There was a dark scowl on his face, and his hair fell in waves over his bare shoulders. Only the line of Durin could look that fierce without a stitch of clothing on.

“I,” Kili said distantly, and licked his lips. “What?”

Dwalin kicked him. The angle was a bit off, so Kili just waved a dismissive sort of hand and leaned slightly to the right in order to see better.

Thorin chose this moment to visit the ponies himself, and seemed . . . somewhat taken aback by his elder nephew’s behavior. 

“By Yavanna’s hairy legs,” Dwalin growled, “boy should have better sense than that! Even Thorin can’t pretend not to notice his heir running around starkers.” He glared at Kili as if this was somehow his fault, but Kili was busy crawling into Bofur’s lap because Thorin’s shoulders were blocking his view. Bofur didn’t appear to mind, as long as Kili’s elbows stayed away from his hat.

Snatches of the resultant conversation reached the Youngers, who huddled together and strained to listen. Ori had the sharpest hearing, and in true scribe fashion, he compiled a quick verbal report when the conversation finished. 

“He says he got sand in his bedroll, but he’s not sure how. He kind of implied Kili might have stomped all over it. Not sure if Thorin believes him. Thorin suggested perhaps being on the other side of the pony would have been a better idea.” Kili made a firm sound of disapproval at that and was cuffed soundly on the back of the head by Gloin and Dwalin simultaneously. He ended up face-first in the dirt. “And he pointed out that we have an individual in our party with more delicate sensibilities that Fili should respect.”

This was met with general confusion. “Who has delicate sensibilities?” Bofur asked. “Bilbo?” They looked across to where Bilbo was sitting with Nori. They were both watching the conversation – and naked dwarf, as Fili was standing there quite comfortably with his hands on his hips, material clutched in the right fist, throughout – with a sort of polite interest. The Hobbit’s ears weren’t even pink. “Thorin really needs to stop brooding majestically under trees and actually talk to Bilbo. He’s about as delicate as a porcupine.”

“The _handkerchief_ -”

“That was three weeks ago, Gloin. Do keep up.” 

It is entirely possible that other Elders sneaked behind the ponies just before they took off again.

\----

The Youngers did press forward, as Ori suggested. Gloin located a beehive and, with minimum injury (to Kili, as no one else was foolhardy enough to rob strange bees), the Youngers managed to get enough honey to lace the Elders’ pillows. 

This plan was perhaps less brilliant than anticipated, as ants in half the bedrolls ultimately meant ants in _all_ the bedrolls.

Mr. Baggins was Not. Amused.

Nori was not amused.

Bifur muttered to himself and scribbled on a worn piece of paper. Then found a tree to scratch against.

Thorin had spent the night perched against a rock some distance away, where he and Dwalin dozed off after a long conversation. The ants, having already made a feast of the other dwarves, didn’t mount a hiking expedition to their rock. Dwalin’s itch-free behavior the next morning was unbearably smug, even to his own camp. 

**Bifur’s General Rules (Common Tongue Translation)**  
46\. NO BUGS  
47\. Naturally, exception for butterflies  
48\. And possibly moths  
49\. But definitely not ants  
50\. Or scorpions  
51\. ….Do scorpions count as bugs?

\---

The Elders loosened the girths on the Youngers’ ponies. 

Only two actually fell off – Kili and, to Bombur’s quiet grin of delight, Bofur – while the others only slid around drunkenly. 

Bifur checked his worn piece of paper, looked over the placid and unbothered ponies, and then put it away with a sharp nod.

Dwalin lifted – quite literally – Bofur to his feet, then turned to help Kili. But he was too late.

Fili was already there.

Only he wasn’t helping Kili up so much as.

Staring at him.

Intently.

Where he was sprawled among the leaves.

Fili licked his lips.

Kili’s mouth fell open in a little grin and a flick of tongue.

“Problem, brother?” Fili asked in a voice that was not appropriate for shared company.

Kili spread his knees and leaned back on his elbows. This had the effect of lifting his hips as he shifted, just enough to make Fili's gaze snap down, then back up again. “Just relaxing,” he said airily. “Thought I’d take a moment to look at the world from _on my back._ ” 

He leered.

Dwalin and Balin, united for a moment, both groaned and hid their innocent eyes. They weren’t the only ones. Dori reached over and tried to cover Ori's tender ears, but Ori ducked around with a huff. _He'd_ been putting up with those two for years now. This was nothing.

Nori smirked and brought his pony over to the elder son of Fundin. “This is your fault, you know.”

“My fault?!”

Nori leaned over and poked the venerable advisor in the chest. “ _Your_ fault. If you don’t want to watch them with their tongues down each other’s throats - or pants - I suggest you reconsider your watch schedule.”

\---

A truce was called long enough to rework the schedule so that the princes might have some. Privacy. 

It was just better for everyone.

Thorin would be pleased they had overlooked their differences for the common good.

If he wasn’t working so damn hard to ignore them.

**Excerpt from Nori’s Notes:**  
 _Now I won't have to listen to Kili wax poetic about his brother's various assets all night or watch for wolves while Fili does his best impression of one at brother's sleeping head._ _Never having duty with either of them again._  
 _Balin owes me._  
 **Appendum:**  
 _Should get Ori to sketch pictures, sell in less reputable alehouses_

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Special thanks in this chapter go to quadrad! Quadrad suggested honey attacks and pony-sabotage. 
> 
> Bifur checked his notes, by the way, and decided that the the ponies (and he) weren't upset, so he let the sabotage slide.
> 
> In the next chapter: We check in with our illustrious leader and unimpressed burglar.


	7. Hit Me With Your Best Shot

Thorin Oakenshield was used to adversity.

He wasn’t afraid of conflict, or of the unexpected. He could be flexible when a situation demanded it, though he knew he was generally seen as immovably stubborn (Balin’s wording; Dwalin’s was more creative). He had entered into this quest with open eyes, knowing there would be dangers from without and irritation from within (that _wizard_ ). He’d carefully outfitted himself and his nephews, made sure all the members of his Company would have what they needed (save the Hobbit, but who could predict an experienced burglar would go on a quest in a dinner jacket?). He had been prepared for anything.

He thought.

Until he went on a great quest to regain his homeland and somehow went from being a king to a beleaguered nursemaid of primary-skills dwarflings in adult bodies.

He was somewhat concerned that they all honestly thought he hadn’t noticed their behavior. If that was the case, they must believe him mentally deficient. Thorin knew everything that happened in the camp, and he couldn’t exactly miss river fights and naked nephews wandering around everywhere (though sadly naked nephews was not so rare an occurrence in his life as he might prefer). There was no real harm in it, so he’d let it go. So far.

But this . . . this was a bit much.

They had rearranged the bedrolls.

Not suddenly. It had developed over several days, but tonight the transformation was complete. Before, his dwarves had scattered around in family groups (he’d predicted as much; dwarves identified strongly with kin, especially parents and siblings). This had meant Thorin ended up tucked in near his nephews and their infernal late-night chatter (and kissing, Mahal help him, but at least they kept it above the waist). The whispers and entirely-too-giggly laughter were annoying, but at least it was familiar, not-

Well.

Tonight, Fili and Kili were the only brothers sleeping in close proximity. Their bedrolls were laid out in the very center of the camp, a little too close to the fire (he walked over to make the appropriate adjustment; Dis would kill him if he brought home two bald nephews). They appeared to serve as a sort of dividing mark, like the time Frerin had found some chalk and drawn a line down their shared bedroom floor as a dwarfling (Thorin had immediately, repeatedly, and “accidentally” scuffed it with his boots, necessitating redrawing it. Perhaps a bit more to the left. Which might have increased his half a bit.). To the right, Fili’s side, were the elder brothers of the Company. They slept in watchful, regimented lines with relatively little room for movement between the rolls. To the left, Kili’s side, were the younger brothers, who opted for a “sleeping so close we’ve become a pile” technique. Both were clear defensive positions, with the outermost dwarf facing away from the fire and into the dangerous dark.

Thorin, more fool he, had spent the last hour checking over their ponies. As a result, he had lost out on the prime real estate above and below the fire – Nori staked out above and Bifur below. Since their current campsite consisted of a small clearing, this left only one area for Thorin to sleep.

Which was also the only spot available for their burglar.

The Hobbit was eyeing him warily.

“I could . . .” he glanced around the clearing. _He could what?_ Thorin wondered. Crawl on top of Bombur? He’d probably roll off during the night.

“There is no reason we cannot share this space, burglar,” Thorin said in a voice he meant to be agreeable, but it must not have come out as such judging by the halfling’s expression. The Halfling always looked like he thought Thorin might suddenly go berserk and snap him in two, which did nothing to assuage the king’s concerns about bringing such an obviously helpless and unprepared individual on his quest. 

It had not escaped his notice that the burglar didn’t have similar issues with the other dwarves. He was especially comfortable with Bofur and Kili, and had even drawn Dori into conversation more than once, despite Dori’s initial reluctance to bring him along. They appeared to be bonding over tea.

Thorin wondered if perhaps he should attempt to relax a bit. 

He wasn’t good at relaxing.

“Well, if it’s…I _am_ tired.” With a final shrug of his narrow shoulders, the Hobbit flicked out his bedroll a couple of inches away from Thorin’s before sitting down and pulling out his pipe. He hesitated a moment when he opened his pipeweed pouch, then asked, “Would you care for some?”

Surprised, but striving to appear as if it was perfectly normal for a Hobbit burglar to offer a Dwarf king shag, Thorin crossed his legs and settled on his own bedroll. “Yes,” he said, and the Hobbit’s eyes narrowed a bit. What? He said _yes_ -oh. “Thank you.”

The burglar smiled at him and handed over the pouch.

The weed was…good. Almost as good as the hobbit’s constant bragging would suggest. Thorin said as much (grunted as much) and the burglar looked pleased. Pleased enough that after a couple of minutes, he said, “Thorin?”

Thorin rumbled affirmatively through a haze of strong smoke.

“How long are you going to let this go on?”

Thorin turned to look at him. The burglar appeared politely interested in his answer. _At least one person doesn’t think I’m completely oblivious on this quest_ (well, two, Dwalin knew Thorin was ignoring their antics on purpose). “Does it offend you?”

“ _Offend_ me?” The hobbit laughed lightly. It was a . . . comfortable sound. “I understand that Dwarves need to let out a lot of energy, like that fight at the river,” Thorin felt his eyebrows rise a bit, “and that it’s actually helped everyone get to know each other instead of just sticking with their own families,” his eyebrows sneaked up some more, “so it doesn’t _offend_ me. Well, except that they’re so _bad_ at it.”

Thorin’s eyebrows attempted to leave his forehead. 

“Bad at it?”

The burglar heaved a massive sigh that lifted his shoulders half way to his broad ears. “Oh, don’t get me wrong. Balin’s group’s not too terrible. The watch was a good idea, and pretty delicately handled, though anyone could have seen that separating the boys for too long would be a disaster.”

“The _boys_ ,” Thorin said automatically, “are thirty years older than you.”

The hobbit gave him a _look_. It was a definitely censorious, chastising _look_ , such as Thorin only received from his sister. “That is ridiculous,” he said in his prim Hobbity way and he _raised a finger and waggled it_ at the king. “And beside the point.”

Thorin, nonplussed, found himself nodding agreement.

“But Bofur’s group! Thorin! They’re…they’re so inept! How can you let a nephew of yours go around using honey when we all practically sleep on top of each other? And do you know how many times he was stung? They can’t even properly rob a hive! Don’t set up pranks you can’t handle, that’s what we Tooks say, but you dwarves.” He huffed, affronted. “And I caught them gathering poison oak in the woods – poison oak! They were going to rub it on things! Without properly preparing it! No paste, no salve, nothing to make sure it stuck on and caused itching without slowing us down-just rubbing it on! With their bare hands! Someone could have had a reaction or worse, it could have _drizzled_ and ruined the entire prank! I had to confiscate the lot!”

The burglar’s cheeks were a bit pink at this point, and his delicate little hands, which he invariably waved around while talking, were trembling with indignation.

“So,” Thorin said, making sure that he had this right, “you’re not bothered by the fact that they’re acting like dwarflings.”

The hobbit snorted. “Brothers or cousins in groups are never more than fauntlings, even in their old age.”

“And you understand why I’m letting it go on.”

“Building them up as a team, my grandfather used to do it all the time.”

“But you’re offended that they’re not _good enough_ at it?”

The burglar turned an incredibly earnest and serious face on him. It was . . . well. Without the proper beard, a little odd, but not. Displeasing. Not _elven._ “I’m not insulting dwarven ingenuity, I’m simply saying that, even with the limitations of travel, they could _do a better job of it_.”

“The sand wasn’t so bad.”

The Hobbit looked frankly disappointed at this statement and the dwarf making it. “If the sand was wet, it would have stuck better.”

Thorin stared at his burglar. 

Well. This was unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Thorin Oakenshield, for your refusal to call a certain someone by the name his mama gave him.
> 
> I have never before written an entire conversation between two people without ever once using the second person's name. 
> 
>  
> 
> _Next Chapter: Shocking revelations and faltering allegiances_


	8. It's Always the Quiet Ones

**Nori’s Notes, Morning:**  
 _Something going on between Thorin and Bilbo_  
 _Was not paying attention last night_  
 _Entirely Ori’s fault_  
 _(Being a DWARF, showing some GEMS and giving Dwalin that scarf, Dori having fantastic conniption, beautiful moment)_  
But now something is going on  
 _And I don’t know what it is_  
 _Not acceptable_

Bilbo and Thorin were talking to each other.

This shouldn’t have been of any particular interest – neither was mute, and while Thorin often kept his own company, Bilbo had proven a pleasant travelling companion willing to sit down and have a chat when it was desired. At first glance, there should be no reason that a Hobbit who was willing to scoot close and pantomime discussions about grasshoppers and kittens with Bifur wouldn’t be willing to talk to the much gentler-looking king under the mountain. 

Except, of course, that he had been half-petrified of Thorin from the outset, and now they were murmuring to each other over breakfast and no one could catch what they were saying. Including Nori.

Curses, but Hobbits could be quiet! Thorin wasn’t as good at it, but he was doing more listening than talking.

Both the Youngers and the Elders obviously noticed this new development. Responses ran from suspicious (Dwalin) to pleased (Bofur) to bewildered (Kili), but no one attempted to intervene. You couldn’t march up to you illustrious leader and demand, “WHY are you talking to our Hobbit, whom you hired and brought along in the first place?!” 

So they continued with the day. Curiously.

The morning’s attack was simple – small pebbles in the Elders’ boots – and easily remedied.

For some reason, Bilbo glanced over the heads of the grumbling Elders, met Thorin’s eyes, and gave a little shake of his head. His hands were perched on his round hips and he looked for a moment as if he despaired for the world. 

Dwalin viewed this with great concern. “We can’t have Thorin paying attention and getting involved,” he reiterated for about the dozenth time since they’d begun. His chin was hidden behind a thick silver-gray muffler. 

“He’s not going to,” Ori said soothingly, adjusting the scarf a bit so it hung more attractively and looked less like it was slowly strangling Dwalin to death. “He’s just making friends with Bilbo, and that’s a good thing.” 

Gloin, who had of late been listening with only half an ear, was a full participant again now that romance was in the air of the Younger camp. He was watching over Ori and Dwalin with a sort of paternal fondness that Dwalin obviously found terribly off-putting. It didn’t bother Ori. It only made sense that someone with his good looks and beautiful wife would be a not-so-closet romantic. “Aye, leave it be, Dwalin,” Gloin said. “Let the Halfling distract him. It’s time to head out anyway.”

On the other side of the camp, the Elders were also studying this new development with interest.

“It’s about time,” Balin said approvingly.

“I don’t like it,” Oin frowned. “Sudden changes in personality can be signs of madness.”

Fili laughed while Balin’s expression was so disapproving it could have melted metal. “Uncle’s a bit difficult, Oin, but he’s not so grumpy that being nice to someone means he’s going insane,” Fili argued into the ear trumpet.

Bombur nodded genial agreement. “Just means Bilbo’s worn him down a bit, is all," Balin said. "I had confidence he would."

Nori, having no camp to discuss his own theories with, sidled up to Bifur.

“Bilbo could barely look at Thorin yesterday.”

Affirmative grunt.

“And now they’re acting like brothers.”

Negative grunt.

“Well, true enough. Better behaved than brothers.”

Affirmative grunt.

“Still, it’s suspicious and bears watching. I don’t like unknowns when I’m setting up the betting pools.”

Bifur said something in growled Khuzdul. Nori, who had spent his Khuzdul lessons planning ways to sneak into shops (not thinking at the time he would use them, it was just an intellectual exercise), thought he might have caught the words _hedgehog_ and _sheath._

He didn’t ask for clarification.

\------------

Thorin and Bilbo went back to their old routines during the morning’s ride. Thorin rode up front with Balin (perhaps a bit surreptitiously _behind_ Balin, without making it terribly obvious that the old advisor was in the lead). Bilbo stayed in the middle of the line, looking terribly uncomfortable in his saddle but chatting amicably with whomever happened to ride up to him. This was generally Bifur, Kili, or Ori, though today, Nori stuck close as well. Just in case he heard something interesting.

Sadly, all he learned were a couple of Hobbit drinking songs (rather raucous, though) and that Bilbo’s grandfather was very fond of pet mice. It would never have occurred to a dwarf to look at a mouse and think “There’s a good pet right there,” but while the conversation was mildly interesting, it did nothing to ease the niggling sense of unease in Nori’s chest. 

They ate lunch from pony-back, stopping only when it was time to make camp. Thorin tended to make camp earlier rather than stop for lunch, which suited the rest of the Company just fine. Bombur and Bilbo roasted some pheasants Kili had shot on the road after Dwalin’s briefly frolicsome horse accidentally flushed them, and the Hobbit successfully convinced Kili, Oin, and Bofur to try some mushrooms he blackened down in the embers of the fire. He even handed one to Thorin, with a quiet word, though later everyone agreed the king had never actually eaten the thing. Directly after Thorin, Bilbo tried to cajole Ori into trying it, but the youngest brother Ri, eager to go on an adventure to face a fire-breathing dragon, was not in any way eager to try food that people dug out of the ground.

Ori politely avoided Bilbo’s encouragement by fiddling with the scarf around Dwalin’s neck again. The warrior let him, with a sort of dazed-smitten-long-suffering look that caught the eye of every dwarf in camp. Even Thorin looked amused. 

Bilbo accepted this avoidance technique with aplomb, and settled down in the general Younger area to nibble on his own ground-fungus. When he spoke, though, his light voice carried to all the curious ears connected to amused eyes already enjoying Dwalin’s expression.

“I was just wondering something.”

“What’s that?” Ori asked as he leaned back and gave Dwalin a narrow-eyed assessment. He reached out to give the wool a final twiddle, then nodded, apparently pleased with the overall effect. 

“It’s about the new sleeping arrangement. I thought I understood it at first, but I admit I’m a bit confused about one thing.”

Ori turned and looked at him, politely interested. “And that is?”

“Bofur.”

Confusion. “What about Bofur?”

“He sleeps on this side.” Bilbo motioned to the side marked off by Kili’s bedroll.

“Of course he does,” Dwalin grunted from over Ori’s head. “Where else would he sleep?”

“Well,” Bilbo said, “over there.” And he motioned to the Elder’s camp. His expression was innocently curious, a bit confused. “He is, after all, _thirteen years older_ than Bombur.”

Chaos erupted in the once-peaceful camp of Thorin Oakenshield.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo Baggins. Middle Earth Shadow Broker.
> 
>  (Mass Effect reference a must)
> 
> _In the next chapter: Immediate response, lots of yelling, Bofur's mustache is on the defensive_


	9. A Sudden But Inevitable Betrayal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bilbo Baggins is 1/2 Took. And he's been behaving like a proper Baggins for almost three weeks. Inner Tooks can't live like that.
> 
> Second upload of the day, may need to hop back a chapter or you'll be thoroughly confused.

“He’s _what_?!”

“They’re-”

“How do you know?!”

“It’s a lie! Not _Bombur_ -”

“That’s-that’s-you can’t-!”

“ _Clearly_ he’s younger! I mean, I didn’t – ask but – well-”

“But Bombur’s so . . . big!”

“And Bofur’s so . . . jolly!”

“What?! Older brothers can’t be _happy_?”

“No you _can’t_ you can only _growl_ and be _overprotective_ and-”

“Then how do you explain _Dwalin_?!”

“You just _leave Dwalin out of this_!”

“But – but Bofur _does_ smack Bombur’s hand at dinnertime!”

“He _does_ I’ve _seen_ him-”

“Bombur!”

“Bofur!”

Bofur met thirteen pairs of eyes and straightened his shoulders, his mustache twitching at the attention. 

Kili’s expression was one of shock and betrayal. “ _Bofur_ ,” he said, in the tone of one praying to be proven terribly wrong, “are you an _elder brother_?”

Bofur lifted his chin, his braids curving gracefully, the picture of dwarven elegance. “Aye. That I am.”

Angry grumbling rumbled around the camp.

“You never told us!” Dori yelped indignantly.

“He’s a _what_?” Oin demanded. “A welder?! I thought he was a miner!”

“We never _said_ how old we are,” Bofur pointed out. 

Bombur smiled pleasantly, if perhaps with an…unexpected sparkle of something in his gentle eyes.

A more confused grumbling this time.

“But then, what are you doing over _there_?” Fili asked, no doubt thinking that it would have been nice to have someone else on his team to assist with the heavy lifting. 

Bofur’s good-natured eyes narrowed. He slid the omnipresent pipe from between his lips and thrust it in Dori’s direction. “ _He_ ,” he said, in what would have been a growl in another dwarf, but came out as only mildly disgruntled in Bofur’s voice, “threw me down the river.”

“You hit Bombur!” Dori sputtered. “Thrice!”

Bofur lifted his chin haughtily. “Which is my inborn right as an elder brother who had to change his nappies and babysit him and convince him to eat his greens and make sure he didn’t make a complete fool of himself when he was courting my lovely sister-in-law. For that, I _deserve_ to hit him with a mudball whenever I please.”

Bombur deflated sadly.

“It’s true, brother, and you know it.”

There was a general murmur of agreement from the Elder camp. Even the Youngers made agreeable sorts of noises.

Bombur re-inflated with an affable nod.

It was Nori who finally groaned, “By Mahal’s majestic balls-”

“ _NORI!_ ” 

“Oh, do shut it, Dori. This confusion’s all your fault anyway. If you hadn’t tossed him without checking all the details-”

“Don’t blame _me_ -”

Nori ignored him with the ease of long practice. “The rest of us all knew each other, at least somewhat. But those three were virtual strangers.” It was true. The sons of Fundin and Thorin’s nephews were all nobility. He and his brothers were essentially merchants, as were Gloin and Oin. Only Bifur, Bombur, and Bofur had come from the depths of the mines. He’d never clapped eyes on them until they met on the way to Bag End. He glared at the general combatants. “And it never occurred to you to _double check their relative ages_?!”

He did not point out that he hadn’t bothered either. 

He couldn’t stand the shame.

Gloin puffed up. “Well, you’d just - there’s a certain expectation – people would just be _honest_ about this sort of thing!”

Bofur was clearly offended. “I never claimed to be younger than Bombur. But I don't have a bone to pick with anyone here except Dori. I can’t help it if you were so distracted by Bombur's good looks you didn’t notice he still has the face of an innocent dwarfling.”

Everyone looked at Bombur for a moment. There was definitely a sparkle in those placid eyes.

“I think,” Balin said in a reasonable tone, “that we should all just calm down. Perhaps Mr. Baggins could explain how he-” he turned to where Bilbo was sitting. Only, Bilbo wasn’t sitting there anymore.

Everyone looked around.

Until they saw him.

Sitting with Thorin and smoking a pipe.

Thorin was gazing up at the stars with his perpetual frown, but maybe, just…slightly, his shoulders were trembling. 

Bilbo gave them a calm and kindly wave. “I asked!” he called out in a friendly way, and blew a smoke ring into the darkening sky.

**Excerpt from Nori’s Notes:**  
 _Mahal’s majestic and HAIRY balls_  
 _Will never underestimate Hobbit again_  
 _Most dangerous among us_  
 _Power of polite conversation unexpected. Must investigate._

_Maybe a little impressed._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Being polite and talking to people like a mature adult is a Hobbit superpower to Dwarves.
> 
> If you want to know who was yelling what at the beginning, [there is this post on tumblr](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/post/81135089287/band-of-brothers-chapter-nine-appendum) that could be of interest to you. Parenthetical motivations also included.
> 
> If you prefer to imagine it yourself, that's also awesome!
> 
>  
> 
> _Next Chapter: Hard feelings and prankus interruptis because we are on this epic quest and things do happen_


	10. And then. Elves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to go back to work today after a week of glorious freedom! *insert sounds of copious weeping*

Mr. Baggins’s actions certainly had a chance of causing true dissention among the Company of Thorin Oakenshield. That Bofur and Bombur, considered by most the mildest and kindest dwarves of their group, should so mislead them for petty revenge _not based on a lifetime of fraternal horrors_ came as a shock to both the Youngers and Elders. 

So bewildered were they that the only remaining open hostility lay between Dori and Bofur. Bofur kept puffing smoke in Dori’s direction, which he pointedly ignored. Then he sang a particularly lewd song right by Ori’s ear that made Dori puff up, so Bofur ad-libbed a verse about gingers, at which point Dori threatened to throw him into a tree this time. Bofur cheerfully and politely invited him to try.

No one quite knew who should defend whom (clearly Dori was an Elder, but should the Elders defend him from Bofur if Bofur was truly one of their own? And the poor confused Youngers kept almost leaping to Bofur’s defense before remembering his betrayal – and yet, who personified _Elder_ more clearly than fussing, overprotective, mothering Dori? It was all terribly confusing), and so the general camp adopted Thorin’s method of ignoring the combatants. 

This was accomplished largely through over-loud conversation, which made Oin happy, at least.

Their shared distress was made clear by the unorganized sprawl of bedrolls around the fire that night. Everyone grumbled to everyone, eyed Bilbo with awed suspicion (he smiled benignly upon them all), and fell asleep wherever they fell. Oin and Gloin ended up right next to each other, quite by accident.

However, as luck would have it, they didn’t have as long to brood over the situation and readjust loyalties as they might have wished.

Because the next night, there were trolls.

And then orcs.

And wargs.

And finally, worst of all-

There were _elves._

And even the most angry, grudge-loving dwarf will immediately join his comrades against the scourge on Middle Earth that is _elves_. Especially elves with large horses that prance around threatening to stomp sturdy dwarven boots and then singsong at each other in their ugly language and serve nothing but vegetables and play _bad music_.

Their poor king had looked truly heartsick at those elf-sticks twanging away at their harps without ever coming up with a proper tune you could actually sing to.

And so, for the remainder of their stay in Rivendell, team Younger joined team Elder, along with honorary members Bifur and Nori, in an all-out mission to annoy the people of Elrond as much as possible.

Thorin couldn’t have planned a better exercise for re-uniting their little band of intrepid adventurers (not that he did, since he was still extremely irked they were there at all).

Tracking muddy bootprints through the pristine halls was Kili’s idea. Though simple, it had all been rather fun – he and Bifur especially had grinned like dwarflings during the “muddying up” part of that particular plan (it was also due to Bifur that the mud contained a smattering of manure, which added a little something as far as annoying the elves went, but also added a little something as far as exasperating his cousins, who had been assigned to share a room with him).

Staging mock battles in the hallways was Dwalin’s contribution. He even pulled Thorin into that one – since, after all, maintaining a battle-ready body was important. Their fight took place in the grand entranceway to Elrond’s central salon, where elves sat around in elegant poses turning their noses up at things. The loud crashes and angry roars sent a number of the delicate, twiggy creatures off home to their rooms. Other combinations included Fili and Gloin in the front courtyard and Kili versus Thorin just outside the main dining area, followed by Fili and Thorin near the kitchens (Thorin perhaps had some anger to burn off over being in the company of elves for more than five minutes).

Ori and the princes joined up for a “lesson” in using the slingshot, and kept “accidentally” sending small pebbles and bits of vegetables in the direction of passing elves. They only hit a couple, and then with apple slices, but they certainly made a fair share of them jump. The point system for this grew increasingly elaborate as the afternoon wore on until Dwalin, surprising the princes but only earning a shy grin from Ori, wandered up and put them all to immediate shame. Ori was greatly pleased to find that Dwalin was well-versed in Ori’s weapon of choice, and expressed as much. It was at this point that both couples decided to call it an afternoon and go their separate ways.

Bombur and Bofur located the pantries, where there were indeed some sausages, which they liberated and returned to the hallway that had been set aside for them. They were assisted in this venture by a very hungry Ori and a grumpy Oin, who maintained that meat was an important cornerstone of dwarvish health. 

Using the elves’ cutlery to teach Kili how to pickpocket was, naturally, Nori’s idea. Everyone was rather shocked to find that Balin picked it up even faster than the young prince. (Thorin, after another of those _looks_ from Bilbo, did order his nephew and Balin to return everything to the table. Balin was insulted Thorin thought he’d actually keep anything. It is possible that the king neglected to tell Nori to put all his plunder back.)

But their finest moment was the fountain.

And that was all Gloin.

He stole the idea from Gimli, who had once horrified some Men by stripping down next to a well and washing off with one cold bucket at a time after being knocked into a veritable river of mud by an angry hind. This did lead to some unfortunate waxing poetic about Gimli’s general brilliance and good looks, but everyone had learned to tune that out early on. 

Balin suggested killing two birds with one stone – allowing the elves a more unobstructed view of the fine dwarven form and allowing Dori and Bofur to battle out their differences – by suggesting a stacked wrestling battle. Teams were selected, Dori and Bofur were perched on top (Gloin joining Oin and Dori and Dwalin carrying Bofur and Bifur), and though everyone thought Dori would win instantly, they learned that Bofur played dirty (and Dwalin may, possibly, have cheated a bit also), and so he came out victorious.

Dori, ever the gentleman, conceded defeat, and they shook hands on it. 

How their hobbit felt about all of this, the dwarves didn’t know. The elves seemed quite taken with him (something with annoyed his dwarves no end, though he was unaware of it), and kept sweeping him off to look at this broken old sword or talk about that boring elven poem or nibble at this inedible green thing. It was all rather insulting. 

The elves should get their own damn Hobbit.

**Nori’s Notes:**  
 _Wonder if Dwalin realizes essentially had double date with besotted princes_  
 _Inadvertently_  
 _I’ll have to mention it._

_Had not occurred to him._  
 _Wish I could draw._  
 _Expression should be recorded for posterity._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Next Chapter: Some things happen._
> 
> What? I mean...okay, I'm deciding on the order of operations here, but I ASSURE you that things will happen and they will involve Bilbo, if the dwarves can pry him away from these over-tall, tree-humping, dress-wearing leaf-lovers.
> 
> Or it could be about Bifur. Or Nori. Heh.
> 
> In my neck of the woods, we call the totem-pole-style water battle a "chicken fight." But that sounded....strange in Middle Earth terms. What do ya'll call it?


	11. I Almost Missed April Fools in a Fic About Pranking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I have become ridiculously lazy at naming these chapters.  
> You LIE, AO3 posting date! In my time zone it is STILL APRIL FIRST. *clings to the clock* 
> 
> I decided I didn't want to make any decisions.  
> So have Thilbo, Nori, AND Bifur.

They abandoned the elves in the middle of the night, which everyone agreed was the best thing that had happened to them in a while. Well, everyone except Bilbo, who looked back wistfully and clearly didn’t appreciate the effort his dwarves had put into saving him from cooing, boring elves (it had taken a stack of dwarves five high to reach that balcony, and he’d just jumped and yelled and lashed out; Hobbits, despite being by all signs secretly evil and conniving, were also so _jumpy._ He’d very nearly punched Fili right in his nose when it cleared the balcony railing. “Thank goodness he didn’t,” Kili breathed with relief, giving said nose an affectionate and noisy smooch.)

The road should have unfurled peacefully before them and, in fact, it did. 

Which was the problem.

Everyone agreed later that they weren’t quite sure how it started this time around, but they all felt it safest to blame Gloin and Oin. The brothers had started squabbling before they were fully out of Rivendell. Oin said something positive about elven healing and Gloin argued “with a decent mining injury they wouldn’t have a clue,” which Oin misheard as “certainly better than anything you could do” and the fight was on. Oin snapped back that Gloin could just keep his opinions to himself because Oin knew Gloin buried his hands in his beard to hide that sometimes he used his fingers when he counted. Gloin puffed up to twice his size and riposted that Oin plucked his ear hairs and that’s probably why he was _deaf as a rotting tree_ , and Oin returned with a story about the time Gloin broke his finger trying to use a bow like an _elf_ (“See here!” Kili growled, and Fili told him to _relax_ they weren’t talking about _him_ and Kili told Fili he could just cozy up to his dagger that night and see what IT did for his cold fingers if he wanted to be like that and Dori snapped at them for being inappropriate and Ori told him to mind his own business, this didn’t even concern him, and Fili said well, at least the dagger wouldn’t KICK him all night and Dwalin agreed with Ori and Balin told him to just stay out of it, brother, just because you’re infatuated doesn’t mean you have to act like a dwarfling, and Kili said I only kick because you DROOL all over my shoulder and-).

Well.

It snowballed from there.

By nightfall, the bedrolls were back in formation. 

(As for Bombur and Bofur, new habits die hard. Before anyone could argue about where they should sleep, Kili grabbed Bofur and shoved him petulantly between himself and Fili as the bed rolls were laid out, only to crawl over him by morning and wiggle down in-between. Bofur’s endless good humor did not fail him even when he took a knee to the solar plexus.)

Thorin settled in with an inaudible sigh at the north side of the camp. Bilbo gave his elbow a sort of commiserating pat before laying out his bedroll nearby. “At least,” he said with that Hobbitish gentleness, “you won’t have to listen to your nephews whispering sweet nothings at each other.”

Thorin snorted. “You heard them too?”

“It’s hard to miss. But rather charming.”

“If you’ve confused charming,” Thorin grumped, “with nauseating, then certainly.”

“I did not confuse the two at all, thank you.” Bilbo said “thank you” in a way which implied another word before the “you,” and not a very nice one. Bilbo watched as Bofur was manhandled into place as an unusually cheerful wall. Fili was definitely pouting. “How long as it been going on?”

“The womb.” 

Bilbo raised an eyebrow.

“Close enough,” Thorin insisted.

“Then all this won’t . . .”

Thorin would have laughed if it wouldn’t have startled half the camp into heart attacks. “No, it won’t. Don’t worry about that.”

“Oh, good. I don’t like to see them arguing.”

“And yet they’re in the middle of all this ridiculous pranking.” Thorin raised an eyebrow at him, “and you fed them the bit about Bofur and Bombur.”

Bilbo _grinned_ at him. “It is in their best interests that they become a bit more adept at handling the unexpected,” he said in a placid voice completely at odds with the absolute mischief in those hazel eyes.

Which was. Not distracting. At all.

~~~~

**Nori’s Notes, Cont.**  
 _Youngers have committed blunder of such magnitude_  
 _Will change everything_  
 _Deserve everything they get for being dunderheads_  
 _Not going to save them_  
 _Absolutely not_  
 _Too fond of my own life_  
 _And limbs_  
 _And gems_

Gloin did it.

Gloin, who for so long had been something approaching a bastion of sanity for the Youngers, initiated the prank that forever altered the future of their quest of one-up-man-ship.

He over-seasoned the food with lavender – an herb whose flowery smell disgusted proper dwarves - and about twenty leaves of mint – a particular dislike of his brother’s. 

He was careful about it, or thought he was. Bombur and Bofur tended to be in charge of allocating the foodstuffs after it was cooked. Bombur would take care of the Elders and Bofur the Youngers as well as Nori and Bifur. Bilbo tended to serve himself and Fili would usually bring Thorin a bowl. Gloin quietly told Bofur to serve up fast. Bofur, with a grin, sent Bombur off in search of their spoons, then quickly fed his usual group, plus sent Fili off with Thorin’s bowl. While Fili was away, Gloin shoved in the lavender and Bofur gave it a good mash-and-stir. So intent were they on their plan that they didn’t notice any of the following:

1\. Bilbo had helped prepare dinner that evening.  
2\. Bifur was still watching them when he settled in with his bowl.  
3\. Bilbo did not get a share before the food was doctored.  
4\. Bilbo is a Hobbit. And Hobbits. Love. Food.

When Oin took his first bite and made a horrible face, which was followed by the Elders all sniffing the atrocious, flowery stench of their own meals, Bifur roared. He was up in moment, and in a bewildered Gloin’s face, yelling in Khuzdul and waving around a beat-up piece of paper. He kept pointing at it, and then, when Gloin was clearly confused, grabbed their banker, dragged him over to a nice patch of dirt, and started writing out runes and drawing visual aids with a pointed stick. 

Bifur was a surprisingly good artist.

…If a rather violent one.

When the other Youngers did not immediately follow, Bifur pointed at Gloin with a growled, _“Binignig!_ ” and started rounding up the other Youngers like ducklings. When he had them in a wide-eyed circle he growled, _“Itgim!”_ (“Sit,” Bofur said helpfully, ever-ready to be a lovable translator) and, since one doesn’t argue with a wild-eyed warrior with an axe in his head, the four Youngers sat down cross-legged in a sort of bizarre and highly nervous adult story-circle. After running a dangerous eye over them, Bifur went back to his lecture and picture-show, which involved such detailed images of vomiting dwarves that they all regretted eating anything. Bofur finally stopped translating and stuffed the flopping sides of his hat in his ears, humming loudly. Bifur popped him on the nose with his rolled-up paper and _confiscated his hat_ , much to the stunned astonishment of his captured audience.

Bofur took baths in that hat.

All of this served as an excellent distraction, because not a single Younger noticed what Nori immediately did.

Bilbo Baggins.

His cheeks flushed and his eyes narrowed and his tummy growling.

Was deep in discussion.

With the Elders.

**Nori’s Notes**  
 _Hope there are some little brothers left by end of quest._  
 _Suppose I should at least try to keep mine alive._

_Sigh._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the English language:  
> I am sorry for the incredible run on sentence, abuse of italics, and over-reliance of sentence fragments in this chapter.  
> But ultimately.  
> I regret nothing.
> 
> Quill
> 
>  
> 
> _In the next chapter: The Youngers come to a Horrible Realization._


	12. And Your Hat Makes You Look like a Pekinese

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Herein is a peaceful day. And. ...The next morning. Alas. Poor Youngers (especially Bofur).

For one innocent day and that lovely night, the Youngers lived in blissful ignorance.

Perhaps Kili and Bofur did notice that Bilbo walked a bit further ahead in the line than he once did, tucked between Balin and Dori, but it didn’t occur to them that this was anything _sinister._ Still recovering from the horrors of Bifur’s impromptu lesson on dwarven digestion, they didn’t have the energy to assign anything more to Bilbo’s actions than his natural ability to make friends throughout the Company. Indeed, all the Youngers were a bit jumpy, and they kept sending Bofur to say nice things about Bifur’s hair or beard, to offer him little treats, or to offer to carry one of those heavy packs, Bifur, you must be _tired._

Just in case.

Bofur also managed to get an outline of the rules, which he considered sharing with Bombur in the interest of keeping him safe, but quite frankly, Bofur was still stinging that his baby brother had done _nothing_ do defend his hat.

His _hat!_

A gift from his sister-in-law! Bombur’s _wife!_ Selected by Bofur’s beautiful nieces and nephews!

And Bombur had just stayed on his side of the camp, the coward, and done nothing to save it when Bifur threatened to _sit on it_ if Bofur didn’t stop trying to reclaim it. 

He patted it gently, as if to make sure it was still there. 

They walked until the sky began to darken to violet. Thorin called out the evening’s assignments as he swung his pack off his shoulders. The princes were sent off for a bit of hunting which, given that they came back with both a brace of rabbits in their hands and leaves with their hair, was probably a good plan (Thorin seemed to have a fair sense of when they needed time to themselves, which most likely came from a lifetime of putting up with them; Bofur wondered if that might have as much to do with their king’s surly demeanor as being responsible for hundreds of refugees for years. Probably not. That’d be a more amusing sort of crazy. He’d really like to meet the boys’ mother. He’d make a point of it when she came to Erebor. She clearly deserved some kind of prize or knighthood for surviving the two of them so long.) Everyone else was paired or tripled off for this or the other task; there was somewhat less to do without the ponies to care for, though his feet would much prefer having them around (his groin had mixed feelings on the matter).

Dinner was a quiet affair after the mess of the night before, though the Elders wouldn’t let the Youngers help with the cooking or delivery in any way and Bombur kept sending his brother looks of such utter betrayal and suspicion that Bofur almost regretted not cluing him in on Bifur’s rules.

Almost.

But then. His _hat._

Everyone wished everyone else a good night, a routine that could take upward of thirty minutes since there were those among them whose sense of etiquette demanded that everyone get an individualized good night (Ori, Gloin, and Oin were the worst culprits; Oin was especially bad because he always waited for a response, but it sometimes took half a dozen shouted repetitions before he actually _heard_ said response. Oin was feeling especially hard of hearing that evening.).

Thorin finally put all this to an end by ordering everyone to sleep.

Fili and Kili mimed an elaborate tuck-in routine on each other (wisely after Thorin strolled off for his before-bed wander), complete with forehead kisses and crooned lullabies. It was generally agreed that Kili should not be allowed to sing in the future and everyone settled in to their bedrolls after Gloin threatened to raid his brother’s supplies and bandage their mouths shut. 

The night was just the right weather for curling up fully dressed under a light blanket, and everyone not on watch slipped off to sleep with no problems. It was, all in all, a normal and peaceful night on the road.

And then dawn came.

 

Kili was the only natural early riser among the Youngers. The others would sleep in if given a chance, so he was the first to realize that something was Very Wrong.

The second, by matter of circumstance, was Bofur. He woke with a yelp of pain and a loud, “Gerroff!”

“I _can’t_ get off! _You_ get off!”

Bofur’s eyes snapped open to find the company’s younger prince practically nose to nose with him. Kili’s eyes were wide (no surprise) and his lips parted in a surprised way that sent a wave of morning breath into Bofur’s innocent nose. Bofur reached out and shoved the prince.

Which he immediately regretted.

Because while Kili was pushed away-

Bofur’s own head went along for the ride.

“What in the name of-” Bofur barked.

“It’s our _hair_!” Kili gasped. “They’ve – our – _hair_!”

Both dwarves raised their hands at the same time and touched their heads. At their temples and under their ears were a collection of fine braids. Braids that hung between them and tangled together in an intricate knot next to their cheeks.

Tied off with a purple ribbon.

“Good morning, brother!” came Fili’s cheerful voice from the direction of the fire. “That’s a new look for you. I never considered accessorizing your hair with a Bofur before.” 

Kili growled and tried to snap his head to the side, but Bofur’s bark of pain and snarl of “ _Stop moving_!” made him stop. 

They lay there for a moment, glaring at each other with their noses almost touching. 

“Your breath is _foul_ ,” Bofur muttered as he tugged at the knot.

“You look ridiculous without your hat,” Kili snapped back. That was a mistake, because Bofur immediately gave a cry for his darling and tried to roll away to look for it. Tears pricked at Kili’s eyes as all the hairs on the right side of his head tried to make an escape. There was a reason his hair was always a mess. His poor scalp was very sensitive.

Which Fili knew very well.

And the son of a troll was _chortling_.

“Fili! So help me, if you don’t get over here and help you can forget my mouth _ever_ going anywhere _near_ your-!”

"Don't finish that sentence!" Bofur begged. Mahal, he did not need details. Especially not with that mouth so close to his _face_.

“Now why would I do that? You two look so _cozy_. What kind of brother would I be if I didn’t let you have a lie-in now and then? Right, Bombur? And oh, look. Gloin’s waking up.”

“Oh is he?” came Oin’s bellow.

“Aye, and my dear baby brother as well. Good morning, brother!” Balin called cheerfully. 

Gloin’s shout was all overlaid with Dwalin’s. “Get your hands off my _beard_ -!”

“I don’t have my hands on your beard, you idiot! Get yours out of mine!”

“Why would I want to touch your beard- _ouch Mahal’s shining gems_ -I’m not your half-grown _boyfriend_ -”

“He is _of age_ and a full member of this Company and if you don’t _roll over and get off my beard_ I am going to _cut yours off_!”

A bark in Khuzdul and a loudly whispered reminder from Bofur, “Rule 15!” put a stop to that line of threats.

“Dwalin?” This was Ori’s voice, rather plaintive. “Someone’s tied the backs of our heads together.”

“I always knew Ori was the clever one,” Dori said with utterly faked paternal pride.

Laughter erupted from the fire. A positive _explosion_ of utterly inappropriate and immature _glee_ that surely such _elderly_ dwarves shouldn’t give in to. They’d probably cause themselves to have heart attacks and keel over if they didn’t give it a rest soon.

And one light, airy chuckle, barely audible under the dwarvish guffaws.

Bofur frowned.

That sounded like…

A Hobbit.

His eyes met those of the second heir of Erebor.

“ _Shit_ ,” they breathed together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _Is it disturbing that one line in this makes me want to ship Bofur/Dis and write an entire story about Fili and Kili dealing with getting Bofur as a stepdad after Everybody Lives and she arrives at Erebor? And he shocks everyone by being awesome at it? And then Dis and Bofur have a mini-Bofur and Kili just Cannot Handle It? Because I do._
> 
>  
> 
>  
> 
> In the next chapter: Poor betrayed Youngers, someone is incredibly smug, scrambling to try and even the odds (good luck, boys)


	13. Girls, Girls, You're Both Pretty

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hair is untangled, Dwalin begins to notice something, Bofur's hat is in safe hands
> 
> This chapter contains hints of Thilbo and a heavy dose of Dwori.

Kili and Bofur were sitting up, Kili’s right leg and Bofur’s left twisted together at an uncomfortable angle, picking at the knot between their ears, when the sun peeked over the horizon. Their elbows kept banging together, and perhaps they could have gone about things in a more organized fashion, but _ow._

Gloin, Dwalin, and Ori were having a more difficult time of it. Gloin and Dwalin were tangled together by their beards, which should have been easier to navigate – except that Ori was firmly tied to Dwalin by the hair on the backs of their heads, the weave a bit tighter to give them less room to move. Every time Dwalin leaned forward to peer at an interwoven strand of red, silver, and black, Ori gave an inaudible little wince and the warrior would snap up straight, tugging hard at Gloin’s hair in the process.

“Stop _fidgeting_ ,” Gloin ordered, grabbing his beard close to the chin to relieve the pressure. “No one’d notice the difference if half your scraggly mess falls out, but they’ll certainly notice if you rip out half of _mine_.”

“That’s not very nice,” Ori scolded from over Dwalin’s shoulder. “Dwalin has a lovely beard, just like you.”

Dwalin didn’t know whether to be pleased he had a lovely beard or annoyed that it was apparently only as lovely as Gloin’s.

“Thank you,” he told Ori at the same time Gloin said, “That’s one enamored dwarf’s opinion.”

“I am not _enamored_ ,” Ori snapped, and well, that didn’t hurt at all did it? “Dwalin _does_ have a lovely beard, along with the rest of him!” 

Oh. Well, then. 

“You’re all just beautiful!” Bofur finally snapped, even his humor dampened by Kili’s constant elbows to the side of his neck. “Lovely! Now stop arguing and get loose so you can help us!”

Gloin and Dwalin eyeballed each other, but did agree to split the work. They divided the three braids up and settled in to unwind them. “Who did this?” Dwalin muttered. Ori was wiggling against his back, tugging at the knots with hands twisted awkwardly behind him. It was fairly distracting. “Balin can barely braid as it is. Bombur or Oin couldn’t sneak up on us. Dori? Fili?”

Kili sighed. Despite Bofur’s order to their comrades, he and Bofur kept running into each other, tangled fingers doing nothing to loosen the most brilliant knot Kili had ever had the misfortune of meeting (that he could only see it at the edge of his peripheral vision didn’t help). “Fili can barely manage a basic braid,” Kili mumbled, though there was no way the Elders wouldn’t hear him. “He couldn’t do this.” He looked warily across the camp at the Elders, who were sitting in a line, eating an early breakfast and watching their siblings with open amusement. Nori was perched a bit away with Bofur’s hat in his lap, which he had taken to petting like a happy feline. Bifur was conferring with his notes. Kili flicked his gaze to his right, managing to catch the corner of Bofur’s eye.

Bofur gave an extremely careful nod. “It’d have to be someone light on his feet, quiet enough not to wake us, who knows knots we couldn’t immediately untangle.”

Kili and Bofur looked at the Elders.

Who had Bilbo Baggins tucked neatly in the center of their line, between Fili and Dori.

Bilbo smiled beatifically at them.

Ori gasped as the realization hit him, and twisted his torso to gaze at Bilbo with such an expression of adorable shock and heart-broken betrayal that the Hobbit should have felt overcome by remorse. 

Bilbo’s eyes narrowed a bit as his smile widened. “Good morning,” he said politely, and took a pointed bite of food. Delicious food which was perfectly seasoned (with no lavender at all, though he could appreciate it in a way that dwarves didn’t), and which he helped cook (again!) and which he got to eat (not again).

“But you’re,” Ori cried at the heartless Hobbit, “you’re an _only child_.”

“Aye,” Dori agreed with a smirk. 

Dori. Agreed. With. A. _Smirk._

Maybe there was something to those stories Nori used to tell Ori in secret about Dori’s younger days.

“But now we’ve adopted him.” Dori patted Bilbo on the shoulder. Bilbo lurched forward, but Fili smoothly caught him across the chest and pushed him back to a proper sitting position.

Bifur put his list back in his pocket.

“Oy, now!” Bofur barked, speaking just as Kili gave an especially strong tug at one of the five braids coming out of the miner’s head. “Rule Fifteen!”

Bifur gave his little cousin an almost pitying look.

“Oh, don’t worry about Rule Fifteen,” Bilbo said airily. He sucked at his thumb in a move that made him look like the most innocent dwarfling who every dwarfed. “We won’t have to cut your hair to get you free. Bifur approved the knots this morning.” He craned his neck back then, and added, “And we’ll be on our way right on time, since it’s just now sunrise.”

The Youngers’ eyes lifted along Bilbo’s gaze to find Thorin Oakenshield leaning against a tree with his arms crossed and a most . . . interesting expression on his face. Even Dwalin couldn’t place it, and he had the most experience. Annoyance? Sleepiness? Concern? ….Admiration? 

_Admiration?_

Dwalin glared at his life-long friend.

Pointy-nosed son of an elf better not be taking _sides_. Dwalin knew stories from when Thorin was a dwarfling that the king would rather be kept quiet.

Plenty of stories.

Thorin lifted one shoulder at him in a sort of _not my problem_ gesture. “We start out in one hour.”

 _Dozens_ of stories.

“Don’t keep us waiting,” the king ordered the Youngers, and yes that _was_ a smirk when his eyes ran over Dwalin.

They would have _words_ later. Now was not an appropriate time for Thorin to go around rediscovering his long-lost sense of humor and looking happier than he had for years and eyeing their Hobbit and-

“We’ll be ready,” chirped the amused Elders.

“And so will they,” Bilbo added, with a languorous wave in the Youngers’ direction.

\------

It took two delicate tugs of the Hobbit’s fidgety little hands to unleash the knots. 

Dwalin was impressed despite himself.

“Hey!” Ori cried when Bilbo delicately unwound Kili and Bofur’s braids. “Those are my ribbons!”

Bilbo smiled sweetly at him and handed the ribbons over. “Indeed they are. Well-made, too. Fine craftsmanship. Hobbits appreciate excellent textiles.”

Dori preened.

Ori scowled.

Dwalin nervously offered to help Ori put his braids to rights.

Ori said yes.

Dwalin wasn’t very good at it, so Ori had to offer patient directions, but it was worth missing breakfast for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Allegiances, alliances, and moving toward the romantic end game for this increasingly ridiculous story.


	14. The Buddy System is Only as Good as Your Buddy

At midday, Thorin called everyone to a stop for lunch.

This was possibly due to the fact that the Elders were stumbling into each other and muttering sleepy apologies. The Youngers, on the other hand, were full of energy – they had an excellent night’s sleep despite the hard-hearted assault on their hair. Youngers with energy was a bit of a dangerous thing for stumbling Elders, who kept “mysteriously” tripping over small items that appeared out of nowhere while Kili and Ori looked on innocently – so perhaps no one was really surprised when Thorin announced a noonday break and scattered his dwarves to various tasks that could have waited until the evening.

The Youngers took advantage of the lull (and the Elder naps that erupted all over the place when Thorin wandered off in search of a water source), to discuss the clear and present danger they were in. Unsurprisingly, it was Bofur who wriggled an explanation out of Bilbo as to why he had turned on them. A general scuffle broke out at the realization that they had left their poor Hobbit to starve, which ended up with Kili being pointedly sat on by Dwalin and everyone agreeing it was the young prince’s fault. Somehow.

The future Consort/Crown Prince/whatever the two young idiots decided Kili would be called of Erebor did not make a particularly comfortable chair, but Dwalin didn’t seem in a hurry to move.

With that settled, the Youngers began to discuss their options. They knew they were in serious danger. A tactical move had to be made. They needed to bolster their numbers and diversify their skills portfolio.

They needed a burglar. Or at least a thief.

They sent Ori in pursuit of Nori (over Dwalin’s vociferous arguments – until his chair poked him and said, “Nori _is_ Ori’s _brother_ you know,” and he suddenly ran out of arguments). It took the youngest brother Ri a few minutes to find him, and when he did it wasn’t so much _locating_ Nori as Nori swinging down nonchalantly from a tree.

Ori didn’t even jump. He had a long-standing immunity to Nori's sudden appearances and disappearances.

“Think about this very carefully,” Ori told his brother, eyes narrowed. “If you could pick one person to annoy this entire trip, would it be me,” he motioned to his knit-wrapped frame and adorable hairstyle as if to say _Ori, your sweet and innocent baby brother who used to cover for you when you sneaked out,_ “or Dori?” This motion was more jagged, implying _Dori, the one who tells stories about changing your nappies._

“That’s a point,” Nori said thoughtfully. 

“Oh, but there is one thing.”

“What’s that?”

All good humor disappeared from Ori’s sweet face. “Dori’s noticed that Mr. Dwalin is . . . interested in me.” 

Nori’s smirk was slow. And beautiful. “But he hasn’t noticed that you two have sneaked off three times now to trade kisses in the woods? Still thinks you’re at the hand holding stage, does he?”

Ori leaned right in his face. “And he’s not _going_ to notice until _I_ want him to.”

Nori sighed. “That’s a major handicap for me to take on, baby brother. I’ve had to deal with Dori 50 years longer than you have-”

“He. Will not know. Until I. Say so.”

Nori wasn’t stupid. Oh, some people in camp were. Foolish, innocent people, who saw those sweaters and that smile, and that haircut and thought, _Well, that’s an adorable pushover._ But not Nori. 

He appreciated all his hair where it was. Thank you. Nor did he want explicit phrases inked all over his neck and arms.

Again.

“Oh all right,” he agreed. “I’m sure I can find another angle to exploit.”

Ori’s teeth looked almost sharp when he smiled. “I’m sure you already have a list.”

 

Ori delivered his brother back to the Youngers. “Nori’s with us.”

Dwalin snorted. “A joy to have you,” he said in a voice that positively dripped with sarcasm. Kili, now sitting a bit away beside Bofur, kicked him. Gloin poked him hard in the side. Dwalin glared at them. 

“Be nice,” Bofur said before turning a bright smile on Nori. “It’s a pleasure to have you, Master Nori. I’ve wanted a chance to thank you for protecting my hat.”

Nori blinked at him, unused to good-humored politeness.

“And I suspect a gentleman with your specialized background might be a real asset to the team.” He held out a jolly hand.

Nori eyed it.

Bofur wiggled it at him, along with his over-expressive eyebrows.

Nori shook it. Cautiously.

Bofur held on for a beat and winked at him saucily before letting go. “So what do you suggest?”

“Call a truce and take on an entirely new mission,” Nori said decisively.

Ori frowned. “What mission?”

Nori smirked. “You’ve all been too busy with each other that you haven’t noticed the best part of your collective idiocy.”

“And what would that be?” Gloin growled, clearly a bit put out at the suggestion that he, as a mature father, would indulge in _idiocy._

Nori waved a hand expansively. “Look around camp. What do you see?”

Kili smirked. “Napping old people,” he responded. “At least they didn’t get any sleep last night. Trolls. I ought to throw some water on them.”

“You do see that,” Nori agreed, which was frankly why he was surprised to find the younger prince here and not curled up like the puppy he was on his napping brother’s stomach. “But what don’t you see?”

The Youngers frowned and glanced around with confused expressions, until finally Bofur managed to somehow jump and yelp in place without actually getting up and barked-

“Bilbo!”

Kili’s eyes widened at the same time. “Uncle!”

Nori’s slow grin was distinctly fox-like. “And isn’t that interesting?” he asked rhetorically.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _In the next chapter, we travel back twenty minutes in time._
> 
> In reference to the title, Bofur is obviously Bilbo's Quest for Erebor Buddy System partner, and he's clearly slipped here because he should've yelled, "Where's Bilbo?!" at _least_ twenty minutes ago.
> 
> Really. Bofur. Shame on you.
> 
> (Also, Nori/Bofur is...it's sneaky.)


	15. In the Interest of Self-Preservation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _No one offering bets anymore; outcome too obvious_   
>  _No one will bet against Bilbo_   
>  _So disappointed, thought he could maintain neutrality_   
>  _Rumors of placid nature of Hobbits a lie_   
>  _They probably spread it themselves_   
>  _Sneaky buggers_   
>  _Speaking of Hobbits, where is ours wandering off to?_

**Twenty Minutes Earlier**

**Excerpt from Nori’s Notes**  
 _No one offering bets anymore; outcome too obvious_  
 _No one will bet against Bilbo_  
 _So disappointed, thought he could maintain neutrality_  
 _Rumors of placid nature of Hobbits a lie_  
 _They probably spread it themselves_  
 _Sneaky buggers_  
 _Speaking of Hobbits, where is ours wandering off to?_

Nori had learned in his life that Dwarves, accustomed to living in dark passages underground, very rarely bothered to look up when out-of-doors.

He was also quite adept at climbing trees. And the sides of buildings. And trees beside buildings that might have valuable items inside. Just. Possibly.

Which is how he came to overhear a certain conversation just moments before the Youngers decided to recruit him to their cause (as if he was stupid enough to go against Bilbo Baggins). 

“You _tied together_ half my company.”

Thorin Oakenshield, he who would be king under the mountain, couldn’t quite work up a glare for the company's small burglar. Thorin, who could glare at anything, up to and including passing rocks, was visibly unable to muster one up for Bilbo Baggins.

 _How interesting,_ Nori thought from his latest and rather comfortable perch.

Said burglar looked up at him. He was kneeling beside a stream they’d found, filling bottles and skins while the others saw to their duties. Thorin had meant to come alone, but the Hobbit had invited himself along. For some reason, Thorin hadn’t rebuffed him. “Not _half._ Just five. And it was only a bit of braiding.”

 _A bit of braiding,_ Bilbo said, as if anyone could have pulled off those knots without waking a single one of them. Nori had always found modesty in Dwarves mildly annoying; it was equally obnoxious in Hobbits. Bilbo should’ve been strutting around, showing off his burgling skills from day one. It certainly would have made everyone less nervous about sending him in against their dragon.

“Still. In the interest of _fairness_ , burglar, you are so far out of their league that I should forbid you from any involvement.”

The Hobbit’s mouth dropped open. His already large eyes flew comically wide.

Nori suspected he might have a similar expression himself.

Thorin appeared to be trying to ascertain what had brought on such an expression. “What?” he finally asked, at a loss.

“That was . . .” the Hobbit’s cheeks tinged slightly pink. He licked his lips. “That was almost a compliment,” he blurted.

Thorin frowned. “It’s a fact, not a compliment,” he argued. “If I was going to compliment you, I’d be more likely to say something about your hair. Right now I’m just looking out for the safety of my company. As pitiful as they all are when it comes to this pranking business, they are still my responsibility.”

Bilbo looked thoroughly confused. “My hair?”

Thorin looked confused right back at him. “What about your hair?”

“You said you’d compliment my hair.”

“That would be a more appropriate compliment than stating a fact about your ability to thoroughly humiliate battle-scarred warriors.” Thorin walked forward and knelt beside the Hobbit, beginning to fill the skins he’s brought. He didn’t notice the extremely odd look the burglar was giving him. 

But Nori did.

_Interesting indeed._

 

**Nori’s Notes**  
 _Our illustrious leader flirts and doesn’t know it._  
 _How ridiculous._  
 _Also very possibly lucrative_

 

“Wait,” Dwalin said, “let me see if I understand what you’re saying here. You want us to initiate a truce with the other side and refocus our attentions on _setting up Thorin_ with the _Hobbit?_ ”

Kili was staring into space like one who has had the ultimate epiphany. “Uncle likes Bilbo?” he squeaked.

“He likes his hair, if nothing else,” Nori agreed. 

Bofur looked decidedly amused. “What’s in it for you?” he asked Nori.

“Obviously, I’ll hold the books on any little wagers that might be placed on the outcome of any schemes which might be suggested by each side,” Nori said modestly. Dwalin snorted and muttered something about trusting thieves with cold hard cash, but an elbow from Ori shut him up.

“What’s in it for the _rest_ of us?” Gloin asked with interest. Nori knew he’d get Gloin on board quickly. You couldn’t keep that bushy red head out of a romance.

Nori gave him a withering look. “If you don't do something to end this war, Bilbo Baggins will take all of you apart and reassemble you in a new and exciting way within the week. You don’t stand a _chance_. You will be _demolished_.”

“That’s going a bit far!” the banker protested. “Why, he’s barely fifty!”

“Said the dwarf who woke up in a tangle with Dwalin. Something we should know, Gloin?” His grin turned sly. “I wouldn’t have thought it of you. Tsk tsk. That's my little brother's boyfriend, you know. I might have to defend his honor.”

Gloin was lost to them for several seconds of red-faced blustering. The noise attracted a recently awakened Fili, who, despite being one of their arch enemies, invited himself to come and use his brother as a conveniently heighted backrest. “He’s right, you know,” the prince said as he made himself comfortable, elbows hooked nonchalantly over Kili’s knees. “Bilbo was telling me this morning that,” he stopped for a brief yawn, “that in the Shire, prank wars can erupt and last for _generations_. There’s apparently two lines of Tooks – that’s his rich, crazy side of the family from what I gather,” he looked to Bofur, who nodded agreement, “-who have been going at it for over two hundred years, and there have been no less than twelve broken legs between the two sides. One particular individual who has the ridiculous name Proudfoot has his door painted a different color at least twice a year and has never caught the Hobbits doing it. And he knows of three occasions when an entire smial was emptied of furniture during a three hour trip to the market. This wasn’t his only idea.”

“What were the others?” Ori asked nervously. Fili gave him a sly grin.

“I don’t think I’ll tell you, Ori,” he said. “I can never know when his plans might come in handy once I’m king.” 

Kili snorted noisily into Fili’s hair. “So you’re on board with this?”

Fili shrugged. “I like Bilbo. I like Uncle Thorin. I like the thought of Uncle Thorin with a little less of a stick up his-” he faltered at Dwalin’s warning glare, “ah, with a slightly better attitude. Why not? It’ll be fun. Goodness knows Thorin’ll never figure it out on his own. Ultimately, it’s a service to Dwarfkind.” He waved a hand. “I’ll talk to the others. I’m sure we can negotiate a truce and terms for the new venture.” 

Kili looked impressed by this wording. “Well said, brother,” he said in a slightly husky voice and rather too close to Fili’s ear.

“Thanks. All those lessons with Balin finally paid off.”

Dwalin actually looked thoughtful. “Clear it with Balin and you’ll have the others,” he said.

“Most likely,” Fili agreed lazily. “You go get right on that, Mr. Dwalin.”

“Good!” Nori clapped his hands together and reached into his shirt for a tiny notebook. “It will be a pleasure doing business with you gentlemen.”

 

The truce was negotiated that night. Nori and Bifur acted as arbiters. Fili, to Dwalin’s surprise, was sent to represent the Elders. Bofur represented the Youngers (who hoped his general air of sweetness would wear down their opponent despite the Elders having a clear advantage in negotiations; naturally they regretted the decision when they realized it was Fili and not Balin they were dealing with; Kili could have distracted him effortlessly. Hindsight is very often frustrating). 

In the end, the deal was simple.  
1\. A general truce was called between camps  
2\. Any group prank would break the truce  
3\. Individual attacks are expected when brothers travel together, so go ahead  
4\. If there was an individual attack, other Elders or Youngers would remain uninvolved  
5\. Fili accepted responsibility for anything Kili might muck up, unintentionally breaking the truce (Kili was unamused when informed of this particular detail later)  
6\. Details for the New Venture were the responsibility of Nori and selected representatives from each side  
7\. Sides for the New Venture remained as outlined (special allowance continued for Bofur and Bombur)  
8\. Bets would be accepted beginning in three days' time  
9\. Gloin and Oin would assist in figuring the odds (Nori balked and said this was unnecessary, but neither side would budge on this. So suspicious, these Dwarves, Nori sighed.)  
10\. When the rules were settled, the Elders would have the first try (Bofur got some guff for this from his side, but he felt he did quite well considering the handicap he started these negotiations with)

It took some time for five dwarves to shake hands with all the other five, but they finished in about fifteen minutes.

These things had to be done properly, after all.

**Excerpt from Nori’s Notes**  
 _I’m going to be rich._  
 _And entertained._  
 _Which is a great combination._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so we have peace between the camps of brothers.
> 
> Sort of.
> 
> As close as we're gonna get.
> 
> (Hey look, this just became a series. Hmm.)

**Author's Note:**

> For additional silliness, too many dwarves, and ramblings about fic development, behold: 
> 
> [tumblr](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/)
> 
> [Blanket Permission Statement](http://dragonsquill.tumblr.com/permission)


End file.
